Amontillado
by silent-giant
Summary: The Cask of Amontillado from fortunato's P.O.V


Title: Amontillado  
Author: Silent_Giant  
Summary: The Cask of Amontillado by Poe from Fortunato's P.O.V  
Rating: PG-13 (just to be safe)  
Disclaimer: If I owned these characters I would be a male named Poe since I'm not I don't own jack (or in this case fortunate)  
A/N I wrote this in one night for my comp class and after a little revising decided to post it so that others could fix :)  
  
  
The carnival had started long ago and I had had my fair share of spirits by the time dusk came. I was enjoying the fun and the buzz accustomed to the consumption of ale, when my dear friend came upon me with great zest he shook my hand. He let unto me the fact that he had just recently purchased a pipe of amontillado he had his doubts and wished me to settle it.  
With slight resistance of asking me to leave the fun or force me to endure the vaults with the cold that already I had. He had even proposed taking Luchesi to the amontillado and allowing that fool to test it for him. Finally I convinced him to take me to the amontillado and I would reassure him either that it was amontillado or if not. We soon had reached his home were his servants had most likely left to enjoy the festive night.  
Upon reaching the vault my cough seized me and again caused my dear friend to fear for my health. Asking me to turn back with such adamant, I refused his pleas to leave but I could not refuse when he offered to me some Medoc to protect from the dampness. Conversation prevailed and I could not help to jest at montresor's expense. Jesting with montresor was a common thing and never would offence be taken at least to my knowledge at the time.  
The further we progressed the heavier the air grew with niter it soon became difficult to breathe. I was still intoxicated with ale and wine and I could tell that montresor was not much better then I. He again pleaded with me to turn back but I refused to give up on the amontillado. I offered him more Medoc hoping to ease his fears over my well being and to again lighten the mood.  
As the air grew thicker are flambeaux begun to glow rather than flame. Details elude me due to my inebriated state yet the darkness of the recess in which I walked willingly is forever known to me. When confronted with a blockage were none should be I became confused as Montresor made a quick movement about me. I tried to rid myself of the fog that clouded my mind but was unable to grasp what was going on. His words spoken in false concern did nothing to make things clear to me.  
In my state of mind, I had yet to realize what was occurring and the only thing in my thoughts was that which brought me to the dark niche, "the amontillado," I questioned. It was then that the shock cleared my mind enough to know what was occurring yet things did still not make sense. My friend had chained me into a tomb into a cold wet enclosure and fear soon replaced the haze that alcohol had at one time cuased.   
Hearing a low moan, a cry of confusion and fear that I did not immediately realize was coming from myself. Cutting off the horrid cry, I tried to think upon the action that I was to take while Montresor continued what ever it was he was doing.  
Thinking of the chains that bound me, I started to struggle against my iron captives. When my struggles seemed futile I ceased and tried to think of anything to get myself out of the life like nightmare that I was experiencing. I sat in silent contemplation as listening to the noise of Montresor doing something out of my sight.  
It had yet to be reviled to me what he was doing or what was happening. As he thrust his light deep into the small space it was then I saw what my once believed dear friend had been doing. A scream of pure rage, fear, confusion, and the feelings of disbelief tore through my throat. Montresor terrified jumped back removing the light and the brick wall from my sight. A brick wall that soon would enclose me into what was sure to be my grave. I heared a deep breath one as if to calm emotion being drawn and suddenly montresor screamed into the recess louder and stronger than I had silencing me.  
Some time passed and I still could hear the continues work of montresor it was then that I believe a moment of insanity settled upon me brought upon by desperation, and denial I laughed more of a low chuckle" Ha! Ha! Ha! - He! He! He! - A very good joke indeed- an excellent jest. We will have many a rich laugh about it at the palazzo - he! he! he!- over our wine" I continued on as such hoping that I was right that it was all some joke a ploy to scare me. I was not being released and my fear grew, as the truth hit me full force my dear friend would kill me this night. He would block me into a wall to die by myself in darkness. In one last try I cried " For the love of god montresor!" and with his cold unfeeling reply of "yes, for the love of god!" after that my mind ceased the ability to function as cold cruel acceptance entered me. I heared him call me with almost a touch of worry and of fear, not enough to save me. He would not free me from my death sentience so with last regards or if only a last goodbye he thrust the light within my tomb and sealed my grave.  
I do not know how much time passed but it was long enough for a chill to set into my bones. I felt upon my arm a dust sprinkling as if from some higher source it was then I realized the rock around the bolts that held the chains were crumbling. With ease I pulled upon one chain at a time placing all my strength on one bolt as the bolt broke from the wall I bent down and picked up the now only glowing torch. The torch gave me enough light to see that any escape was impossible.   
With the thought of telling my story I sat upon the ground and pulled a scroll of paper and a charcoal pencil from my pouch. I spent the last moments of my life writing of my death. Now as the torchlight grows dimmer and my cough stronger, I will be forced to end the story hoping that some one will know what really happened this dreary night. That dear treacherous friend of mine, Montresor, lore me to my death with a simple promise to taste one pipe of Amontillado.  
Fifty years passed and still the grave of Fortunato is undisturbed as a scroll that bears the truth lay rotting on the floor of one mans grave.  
  
THE END 


End file.
